


Feels like we're living

by AngieOnPluto



Category: They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera
Genre: About to Die, Adventure, Death-Cast, Drama, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Tragedy, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngieOnPluto/pseuds/AngieOnPluto
Summary: If you were told, right now, that you have less than 24 hours left to live, how would you react ?It's September the 5th, 2017, and you're Theo; a writer who trapped himself in a routine at 22 years old.You just received the call telling you that you're at the finish line of a race you feel like you never really ran.But, at least, you won't get through it alone. Right, Griffin ?
Kudos: 4





	Feels like we're living

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the universe of They Both Die At The End by Adam Silvera. 
> 
> The world and its characteristic (such as Death-cast and the Deckers) are from the book. The characters and everything else are made by me. Hope you'll like it :)

_**September the 5th, 2017** _

_**7:02pm** _

And here I am again. 

Exhausted, I opened the door of _Dimanche_ , sitting my tired body on my usual table. Well, it's not like my name was written on it, but given the underrated reputation of the Café, there aren't many customers every time I pass by. Leading me to that same table every day. I might even be coming more often than their boss, at a rate that I can easily recognise every employees, even though I never had a proper conversation with any of them. 

Finding a home in this place, I took a liking at this small table, lying in the corner of the room and in front of the window. That way, I can find inspiration on the people walking down the street. On those so busy they're bumping into everyone. On the kids pulling other adults' sleeves, to move forward. And on the teenagers so into their music I can almost guess what they're listening to just by looking at them. 

I wonder where they're all going. 

If someone is waiting for them at home. Whether they live in a home, a house, or somewhere else. Sometimes, I take so much time to glare at them that I forget to write. Or maybe I'm taking this as an excuse not to write, who knows? 

I finally opened my computer to let my fingers dance on the keyboard. Okay, _dance_ might be a little too much, considering how much I struggle to finish only one sentence. In fact, they're looking more like a sentenced to death walking slowly towards it. They know it's not going to end in a pretty way, but there's nothing they can do about it, apart from trying to delay the moment as much as possible. Maybe I first thought they were dancing because those fingers are mine, and I prefer blindfolding myself than having to look at what's in front of me. Maybe. Who knows? 

Today, again, I wondered why I'm incapable of giving an end to my stories. I wrote some stuff but none of them had a proper end that I could acknowledge. Not knowing how to write endings in a world where we have the technology to predict it, feels kind of ironic. My words always seems devoted of any sort of conviction. And who would like to read something that stinks resignation? 

Why can't I give my readers the satisfying end they deserve? I'm always ending everything with question marks, wonders, and maybes. Lots of maybes. I just, can't find a good way to properly put an end to something I involved myself so much in. 

And when I say _good,_ I don't mean an end where everyone's happy and in love and there's lots of kids running in a garden and the trees are blossoming and everything's fine. Everyone could die, and it could be a good ending. I tried that, too. I went to _everyone's dead_ to _they got married and had tons of pretty children_ but nothing felt right. 

On internet, people are saying I lost myself. But how could I lose something I never found? What am I missing? What am I doing wron- 

"Are you okay?" 

Lost on my thoughts, I didn't hear the first call of the waiter, still waiting for me to go take my order. 

"Sorry to interrupt, but your coffee will get cold if you don't take it fast." 

Oh yeah, I forgot that coffee's like the people walking down the street. It isn't waiting for you, and loose its warmness before you can even write about it. 

I looked up to see the face of the barista. He was unexpectedly wearing a light but genuine smile. I couldn’t picture what he was thinking about, but I could feel his nervousness from head to toe. 

"My bad, I didn't hear your call." 

He grinned. Put the coffee on the table. Opened his mouth. Breathed. Prepared himself to talk. But before he could say anything, my phone rang. 

And that call, I sure heard it.   
  


**7:13pm**   
  


Like a deadly blast, the worldwide-known alarm resonated in the room, filling the air with pure terror. Hands shaking, I took the time to look around me, meeting scared eyes in the way. The only consumers, a couple of two young people, were holding hands while looking at me with pity. The waiter, still by my side, seemed as scared as I was, his eyes fixed on the phone as if it would stop ringing if he looked at it strongly enough. 

But it won't stop. Not until I take it. And I couldn't bear the whistling that was growing in my ears anymore. 

"Hi, Andrea here calling from Death-Cast. Are you Theo McIntyre?" 

Sadly, I am. 

"Yes." 

"Great. Theo, I regret to inform you that sometime in the next 24hours you'll be meeting an untimely death. And while there isn't anything we can do to suspend that, here's a list of events you could attend to for your last day." 

She sounded as bored as those air hostesses recalling the safety instructions before a flight. She obviously already told a hundred, probably even a thousand people that they were going to die, at a rate that her empathy's gone with them. 

I'm honestly no longer listening. Why should I care about going to _that_ concert or _that_ museum now, when I didn't in the 22 years of my life? I've always preferred the comfort of my house, and my routine of coming in here. I don't know why it should change because I'm dying. 

Fuck. I'm dying. 

The saddest thing is that I never once was motivated for anything, and even now all I want to do is go home and sleep until what has to be done, be done. 

I felt the waiter's hand on my shoulder, patting it as if I was some sad kid who didn't get what they wanted for their birthday. I only realized I was crying once I felt wetness on my cheeks. 

"… Do you understand all of this?" 

"Yes." 

"Very good. You'll receive a text with all the procedure you need to fill, you know, all that boring stuff. So, on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we are so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest, okay?" 

I hang up. 

And now what? All I can think about is all the wasted opportunities I threw away because I was too lazy to make them happen. Because I cared more about the little voice in my head reminding me that there'll always be a tomorrow, that I still have _so many_ _time_ _left,_ than I did about my actual will of _living_. I was so scared of the outside world and of what it could do to me that I trapped myself in a routine at fucking 22 years old. 

And now I'm about to die. 

I took a look outside, to see the sun turning its back on me, letting place to the dark. I can't look away from my reflection on the glass. Gosh, I look like a ghost. I’ll be one soon anyway. 

I felt the weight of the waiter’s hand leaving me, and suddenly I become aware of his presence. Like you only realize how important things are only when you’re losing them. 

“Well, look like I won’t be your number one customer anymore.” 

I tried to make a joke, but failed miserably. He’s not laughing at all. 

“I’ll end my service in about 20min. Would you mind waiting for me?” 

I can almost say that I know this guy from a long time, since he started working here a couple of months after I began coming every day. I even remember his first day, and how clumsy he was. He’s the kind of guy you’d caught smiling no matter what, as if he’s never experiencing bad days. But apparently he also knows how to get serious. He’s the kind of character I have fun to write. 

Coming in here, seeing his face and how he's wearing his emotions on his sleeves like an open-book, never stopped inspiring me. I found myself expecting him showing up at work, even though he still breaks plates from time to time or makes mistakes in the orders. I probably like that side of him. 

It makes him so human. 

“Um, sure, I’ll go take a couple of calls outside. As for the coffee-” 

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house.” 

If dying would, at the very least, have a benefit, it would be this one. _Deckers_ _-_ how are called the people about to die- are being offered all food services, at a certain extent. There’s also some events and places especially made for _Deckers_ , like private pools or free-fall simulator. Apparently a while ago you could even parachute jumping, but I heard they closed it since too many _Deckers_ died because of it. Which is stupid considering they’ll die anyway; it’s only the way they’ll die that changes. In this world, you just cannot escape death. It’s the same as in the _Final Destination_ movies, death follows you everywhere until they finally got rid of you. 

At least they got a pretty badass ending, I don’t even want to think of how I’ll get mine. 

**_7:44pm_ **

I don’t really have anyone to call. Both parents are long gone and I can’t really say I have friends, since I lost contact with all of them after graduating high school. Not like I was that surrounded before, but still. They must all be pretty focused on their college life, swinging between studying and partying. 

I always kind of knew studies weren’t meant for me. It’s not that I was bad in school, I just wasn’t a big fan of the concept. But I loved writing my own stories instead. They were no good nor wrong answers. People could always dislike what I was doing, of course, but it’s not like they were scientific hypotheses that could be refuted. 

It’s easier not to fail, when you’re writing. 

You can miss a point, or overdone another, but there still is a chance that someone will like it, somewhere. And I was craving the freedom it gave me. That’s why I worked just after finishing High school. That's why I trade so much of what I could have. 

But maybe I should have gone to College. Maybe If I did, I wouldn’t be dying today. Maybe if I did, I’ll be somewhere far from here drinking shots in a bar with some friends, instead of freezing out, a phone in my right hand that got no one to call. 

He finally showed his face, all the other parts of his body being covered by warm clothes. Well, at least he’s cute. 

“You could have waited inside, it’s really cold in this part of town.” 

You don’t say. 

“It’s okay, I needed the fresh air anyway.” 

There’s no awkward silence. I always thought you must get some of those when you first meet someone, but I guess I was just really bad at social interacting. Actually, even If I had gone to College, I probably wouldn't have gotten any friend. 

“Did your calls go well?” 

When you have less than 24 hours to live, you don’t really care about lying anymore. It feels superfluous and a hindrance to time. 

“In fact, I, uh, don’t really have anyone to call, so..” 

Okay, I didn’t exactly say the truth either, but I’m not ready to call _her_. Not now. 

He weirdly just gave me a compassionate smile while nodding his head, as if what I just said made perfect sense for him. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s just that I never saw you with anyone at the Café, so I figured you were more of a lone wolf.” 

He’s not that wrong. Though I don’t always like it. Being alone can feel pretty lonely by times. 

He landed me his scarf. 

“What is this for? Wait, I know. You don’t want me _freezing out to death_ , right?” 

"Oh my god, you did not-" 

I wonder where this is leading me. 

**_7:52pm_ **

"By the way, I didn’t catch your name.” 

"Well, I didn’t throw it.” 

I know, worst pun ever. But I haven’t had a proper conversation with someone -that wasn’t work related- in a long time, so I’m almost swimming in uncharted waters right now. Weirdly he seemed to like it. 

“I guess I asked for it. But good one.” 

I wonder how he can give off such a calm demeanor while still looking social and outgoing. 

"Thanks. I practiced a lot.” 

Like this, I’m out of things to say. 

"Griffin." 

I look at him. 

"My name’s Griffin. But you can call me Griff’, or whatever suits you best. And you are?” 

"Oh. Theo. Theo McIntyre" 

"Alright, Theo. Do you have somewhere to go? Or someone to see?" 

"I don’t. I’m free for the day." 

At least what’s left of it. 

He took my hand but he’s not looking at me. We’re walking through the street, the cold wind still tickling my face. 

But I don't feel so cold anymore. 

I don’t know where we're going, yet I'm not scared. 

He might be the reason why I’m dying. Maybe he has planned to kill me. Maybe he's Jessie's brother whom I called a _fattie_ back in 6th grade and he's here to avenge her. But for all it’s worth, I’m taking the risk. 

I have a feeling it’ll be worth it. 

"Then let’s go." 

**_8:39pm_ **

"When are you gonna tell me where we're going?" 

"It wouldn't be a surprise anymore if I told you." 

All I knew is that we needed to catch a train. Which, believes me or not, is something I haven't done since I graduated high school. Not like I missed it. 

"Hey, did you hear this?" 

I stopped to look around me. We were in a pretty empty street where half the floor lamps were no longer lightning up. However, in the midst of all this, is a place glowing through the dark. It was one of those pubs where anyone can go on stage and make a little gig for the other consumers. I've only ever read about it, but never actually went inside one. 

"Griff', would you mind if we enter for a sec?" 

I probably won't have noticed the place if this wasn't my last chance of entering one. Today definitely is the day for that. 

"I was about to ask you the same thing." 

... 

We stopped at the entrance. More precisely on the sign hanging on the door; _For_ _Deckers_ _only_. Heh, good thing I'm dying today. 

"Look, _Attendants allowed_ " 

"Too bad. I had planned to escape by the back door while you were waiting for me." 

As if. 

**_8:42pm_ **

That's when I heard it. 

Griff' was by my side but I felt suddenly alone. Very surrounded, yet very alone. The two guys on stage were singing _American Pie_ with such emotions you can immediately understand they're _Deckers_. The whole room's cheering for them as if they were the author of the song. Some people are singing along, others are crying, while the last ones are smiling their eyes closed. Hopefully lost in good memories. 

That is when the " _This'll be the day that I die_ " line hit me and I need someone. I need to take someone's hand or I'll drown myself in a sea of self-pity from which I know I won't walk from unscathed. My left hand reached someone -probably Griff', but in that moment it could be anyone's that I won't see a difference- and my right hand do as well. I feel both sides squeeze back and I instantly feel a little better. 

" _This'll be the day that I die…_ " 

I'm staring at their face now. They strangely look so happy, as if they were two boys with plenty of times left. I'm all of a sudden taken aback by how young they are -probably even younger than me- and I can't stay here. 

I'm taking back my right hand, thankful to the stranger who let me borrow it for a moment, and dragged my body –besides the one at the end of my left hand- outside. 

I look back. It's Griff'. Good. 

Good. 

**_8:45pm_ **

"Theo, are you oka- ?" 

"Do you think those two guys are dying today?" 

I know the answer already, but I need to feel reassured. And from what I know -which isn't a lot, sure- Griff' looks like the kind of guy who'll see things in a positive way. And I need that kind of thinking right now. 

"Yeah, I think so.." 

Fuck. 

"At least it seems that they're enjoying their last day. I know people who didn't." 

Awkward silence. The first one. 

"Don't you think we'll be better off not knowing?" 

I'm searching for answers in his eyes but I can't find a thing. 

I know it is kind of an unspoken rule to not ask this but I can't help myself. I used to wonder what good it does to know something we can't stop. Especially something as terrifying as death. Now that I’m concerned by the question, I feel even farther away from the answer. And I hate it. 

"I don't know, Theo. But there's nothing we can do to change how things are" 

Which is exactly my point. 

"Seems like there's nothing we really know how to do, except for telling people they're dying." 

I know I shouldn't get mad, especially not at him, but I can't help it. Not more than I can't help dying today. 

I'm not looking at him anymore. I’m scared of wat kind of eyes I would be to face. We're no longer walking towards the subway station. I know there's no time to waste but right now _knowing_ is not enough to stop me. 

"Those two guys." 

He took my hand. I remember the pub. The heat. The strangers. 

I choose to raise my head. 

"Those two guys, even though they can't change what's going to happen to them, they definitely helped the people in the room by giving them last good memories. Which might make them feel a little better once in heaven. Maybe them dying today saved people. We don't know, Theo, we just _don't know_." 

I never in my life hated more than now not knowing something. 

"I'm sorry Griff'." 

He smiled while releasing my hand, both being very contrasted course of actions. Then he started walking again while still looking at me, the seals of inconsistent light illuminating his face from behind, like an angel with divine light on his side. 

And even though I don't know much, right now, I know that I must follow him. 

Maybe I'll know once we get there. 

Maybe. 

"Shall we?" 

**_9:51pm_ **

It's even worse than I remembered it. 

The feeling of unsafety, the smells coming from everywhere, the urge of coming back to the surface... In other words, going down to the subway station sucks. 

“Well, look like we’ve missed our train.” 

“We can still catch the next one” 

I might not believe in God, but right now I'm praying so hard I'm not dying here. At least, I don't think the ride's going to be the issue, since I'm taking it with Griff' and he's not dying today. 

"Thank God." 

"What?" 

"There's empty seats." 

Thank God indeed. 

We sat and it doesn't feel so bad anymore. I catch a little girl's eyes and she smiles at me. I sadly smile back to the thought of her becoming one day older than me. 

"Hey, I was wondering... What were you doing all that time at the Coffee shop?" 

A hand behind my neck, the other fidgeting nervously the cords of my sweatshirt, I answered "I'm a writer." his eyes widen and I feel the need of correcting myself. I don't want him to have expectations. "..But a bad one. I'm never really happy with the way I'm ending my.. books." 

He got the hint and didn't ask much after that. The last thing he wanted to know was if I was done with the last project I was working on. 

"Almost. It's a collection of poems but I couldn't find my headline. You know, _the_ one." 

"Then you must find it quickly" he said, smiling while not looking at me. I understand what that means. 

**_10:24pm_ **

"Are we here yet?" 

"We're just a block away." 

We were walking through the quiet streets when we heard the siren of fire trucks. It came so suddenly, so violently through the silence that it reminded me of the moment I got my call. 

We kept going, until we eventually got to a crowded area. 

"It's- It's just around the corner." 

The more we were walking the more I felt anxious. Heart's racing. Hand's sweating. I need to let it out. 

"Griffin, I have a bad feeling" 

I raised my head to meet flames sticking out from behind the building in front of us. 

"I do too." 

**_10:27pm_ **

Ashes. Cries. Fear. More ashes. More fear. My lungs hurt. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't. Breathe. 

Griffin. 

"Theo, are you okay?" 

I can't believe what I'm seeing. 

The theater we were going to is now bursting into flames. We’re surrounded by scared, sad and resigned eyes. I overhear someone shouting how his friend didn't receive his call and how he must be saved, but the paramedic in front of him isn't listening. I watched him apologizing, writing something in his notebook, then leaving the guy alone. I wonder what happened. Did he really not receive his call? Did he hide it from his friend?

"Excuse me sirs, if you don't know anyone still inside and aren’t hurt, you must leave the scene." 

I don't need to get this asked twice, I feel so hot I need to get out but Griffin opened his mouth while I was turning my back. 

"Sorry but, could you tell us what happened?" 

The firefighter sighted, as if he was already sick of having to explain the situation. 

"Well, something started a fire but we don't know what exactly, and-" he got called before he could finish his sentence and left as fast as he came. I feel Griffin's hand on my back. I want to go home. 

"Hey, um, I don't live far away from here, do you want to sleep at my house?" 

Yes, please.

**_10:27pm_ **

I can’t seem to remember when was the last time I crashed at someone’s place. I can’t even recall if I ever did it past kindergarten. But even so, I know what a house looks like, when there’s more than one person living in it. And it certainly is bigger than this. 

“Hey Grif’, if you don’t mind me asking, are you living all by yourself?” 

“Yes, why? Is it that surprising? I’m already 26, you know.” 

“Well no I certainly didn’t know that! You look-” I almost said _more like a kid_ but managed to save myself in time, “-younger”. And by _more like a kid_ I meant _more of my age_ , I would never sleep at an underaged house, with the parent’s consent or not. 

He made a little eye roll. I didn’t know he could do that, but whatever it was, I caught it. 

“I know, everyone keeps telling me that. It is kind of frustrating.” 

He gave me a little room tour, recalling stories of the neighborhood, or how he likes the view from his living room, even though it ranges over a sea of buildings. Apart from the fact that there’s no bedroom, and that his bed’s actually laying in the middle of the living room, everything’s where it should be. Although It’s my first time in here, I can tell that there’s nothing out of place. It almost feels like I’m walking through those made-up Ikea rooms. 

We eventually sat down, a cup of coffee each in our hands. 

"What about you Theo, are you still living with your parents?" 

I knew I couldn't run away from her any longer, but not now. She has been a little devil on my shoulder from way too long, she's definitely not interrupting what we’re having in the moment. Whatever it is. 

"My dad's dead and my mom, well, let's say I cut off the rope between us." 

He’s not saying anything. I like how he’s keeping himself from saying I’m sorry, I hate when people do that. They can’t be sorry about something they had nothing to do with. Not like I told that story to many people but, I’ve always liked more those who would just nod their head while I’m telling them. There’s no need for such reaction when there’s no big deal. And even if it was, sometimes there’s no words to express the feeling. And I know a thing or two about words. 

"Don't you miss her?" 

Misses is not the word I would have use here. I do miss the idea of having a mother, being yelled at through the phone because I don't eat healthy enough, buying her a mug every year for Christmas, with “Best Mom” written on it. But _Her_ , I sure don't miss. 

He locked his eyes on me like he did on my phone some moment ago. I know now that I can't get through his gaze, and I know he won't stop it before I spilled the tea. So I tell him everything. How when I told her I didn't want to go to College because writing all day long, alone in the dark seemed more appealing to me, she made it clear how much of a disgrace I was for her. How I've failed every single thing she worked hard for by wanting to be something so unstable. 

She probably always hated me anyway, saying how much I looked like _him_. I haven't heard of her ever since. 

"You should call her." 

"Not now." 

"When will you, if not now?" 

"Please, Griffin, not _now_." 

He silently resigned. Obviously not aggreging to me, but still accepting my choice. I'm thankful for that. 

I know he must be right, but in that instance, I'm choosing to be wrong. 

**_1:03am_ **

"Seriously? Woah Griff', you must be the only one on Earth who doesn't put a password on their phone!" 

"What do you want, I trust people." 

"Maybe a lil’ too much, I mean, you did invite a complete stranger into your house." 

"Wasn’t it worth it?" 

I wanted to give rejuvenation to the night. I wanted to forget about the garish sun. But at one point or another, I fell asleep. Griff' by my side, I lived through the day, knowing that I won't live through the next one. 

**_7:32am_ **

I woke up to the morning sun cuddling Griff’s back. He’s standing in front of me, the window behind him. The sunlight’s weirdly being reflected in a circle -thanks to that building completely surrounded by glasses- and I find myself plunged in the middle of a snow globe. Except without the snow. I feel the light on my right cheek and now I understand why Griff’ loves this view so much. 

"What a nice morning we’re getting, today."

He smiled. 

"I told you, the mornings are pretty great here."

 _Morning_ _s_. 

"Do you know what time is it?"

Asking it made me realize that this is the last time I’ll ever wake up. The last time I’ll see the sunrise. It sucks that it was also the last time I had a dream, and I can’t even remember what it was about. 

"It’s 7:33am. I had set an alarm clock in case we didn’t wake up."

And we don’t have time to waste. 

"I was thinking about getting us some breakfast at the bakery, but I’m not sure if I can, you know, leave you alone.."

Truth is that I could get up and knock my head over his dresser, or try to make myself a cup of tea but end up causing a gas leak. I have no clue on when or how it’s going to happen, I just know that it will. And I can’t imagine what it must be for him, to know that at any moment he could turn his eyes away from me and when he’ll look back I’ll be gone. Now that I take a proper look at him, the bags under his eyes are confirming my thoughts. 

"Hey, Griff’, are you sure.. Are you sure you wanna stay with me today?"

If I was in his case, I won’t like to live someone’s End Day. Especially someone I barely know. But he’s still here, waiting to grab us some breakfast. 

"Of course. I-" He stopped. Intertwined his fingers, head down. It’s not the first time he’s talking to me without locking his eyes on mine, but it is the first time he has avoided my gaze so much. 

"I have something to make up for."

"And what is it?"

His silence answered me. I can’t push him since he didn’t push me back then, with the whole ‘mom thing’. So I let him grab his key, take his coat, and leave. I’m still on his bed, thinking about what has happened and what’s soon to be. I take my phone, open OneNote, and start writing. 

**_8:27am_ **

Fortunately, Griff’ came back, a bag full of pastries in his hands. We ate and now it’s time to go. Time to live a little. Time to make the memories of a lifetime but in a single day. Yet since he came back, Griffin hasn’t exactly been the same. I felt him glaring at me more than he did the day before. And every time I stare back, he quickly looks away, as if he stopped feeling safe in my gaze. 

"Okay, Truth or Dare?"

I also caught him praying a couple of times, about small details. Like, we’d see a bird fly past the window and he’d pray that it’ll come home safe. Or sometimes he’ll randomly start daydreaming, his eyes closed and his mind roaming somewhere, probably far away from here. 

"Truth."

I wonder what he’s thinking. And where he is, in those instances. 

"Hmm. Oh, I know. Who was the last person you fell in love with?"

My last love was also my first one, back in the day when I thought life would be easy to live. It turned out that dying is actually easier. 

"Someone I met a while ago. At a summer camp. One day we were supposed to see a rain of shooting stars but because it was a cloudy night, we didn’t see anything. Like, it all happened in front of us, but we missed everything." 

We listened to music instead. It’s still a good memory, though I really wish we had seen them. 

"Then I know where we should go."

I decided to take his hand again. 

**_9:01am_ **

"Wow. I didn’t know there were a planetarium in this City."

Not like I ever went in that side of the Town. 

"I know, right? Most people know about Chicago’s, but forget that there’s one right here."

And I’m not blaming them. The entrance was almost entirely covered with moss, as if it didn't want to be found. As if we were venturing into the lands of Aurora, to which all the people have been put in a deep sleep for ages. Yet the lady at the entrance doesn't sleep, even considering the total lack of visitors. I dared to ask her why it was so empty, and she replied that the building technology is too old to show moving planets -or anything more startling- and that it was hard to project clear images on a wooden structure. Initially It was meant to be used for something else, so the shape of the building isn’t optimized for projections. But she promises us pretty stars. 

So we walked in. And although some of the beams were exposed, even though the whole ceiling wasn't covered with shards of light, I found it lovely. Weirdly realistic. It wasn’t trying too much to be something that it obviously wasn’t. Griff' by my side, we laid down on the cold and hard floor, our heads literally in the stars. 

"That is so cliché"

"Blame your first crush for that. I did my very best to satisfy you. Aren’t you?"

I chuckled a little, mixing my forming tears into a laugh. 

"I am, silly. I am."

If time could be bought, I'd sell my entire Dr. Strange collection just to slow it down. I take a look at Griffin, at the way his hair bounces back when lying on a flat surface. We don't talk anymore; we know that no words could fill the empty space of the planetarium enough to be time-stamped. Staring up at the stars, I remember all those moments spent writing until noon, only to finally erase everything out of dissatisfaction. I remember feeling so helpless so many times, being unable to get what I wanted. The truth is, I never really knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted to be recognized and for people to like my endings. Making them craving for more. Making me feel worthwhile of them. The truth is, deep down I wanted to believe in my words. In their power. In the will they would have given me, and perhaps I would’ve found the bravery to leave the routine I was trapped in. I would have traveled. I would have called my mother. I would have lived. Not for others, but for myself. 

I would have lived. 

"Theo are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?"

"What?"

"You’re crying."

"Nah, I never cry. It must be raining."

Even under a fake, cloudless night sky. 

"Wait. Did you feel this?"

He raised his head, eyebrows furrowed. 

"I think that something fell on my face, like, dust." 

It's quiet again, but this time I need it to be filled. A creaking sensation was then felt through the floor, along with a sustained squeaking noise. I hastened to look at Griffin. 

"It's not just dust," I said, heart beating faster and faster. "It's sawdust." 

We hear another crack, then sit down. I can feel the floor vibrating under my fingers. I trade a few seconds of my time to look at Griffin, who -despite the tension in the air- doesn't show a single ounce of stress on his face. Instead, he's praying. So, when I suggested that we should go, he answered me in the most composed way possible that he would follow me. Indeed, as calmly as someone who didn't get his call. I'm lightly loosening up. He's not dying today. 

Another crack. 

I hurry to the exit, focusing my attention on the crackling noises and the sounds of Griffin's footsteps. We're only about 10 meters away from the exit. I feel dust falling into my eyes but I keep them open, though they’re burning me. A few feet. I can still hear Griffin's footsteps behind my back. Good. 

Good. 

One step and- 

"THEO!" 

I'm pushed out of the room, falling to the ground headfirst. My ears are whistling so much I can’t even hear myself speak. I'm outside, on the stone path leading to the main hall. I can't hear the crackling noises anymore. I can't hear Griffin's footsteps. 

Griffin. 

I turn around. Griffin's gone. 

Instead, I'm facing an impressive wooden beam filling the entrance. 

"GRIFFIN!" 

I’ve shouted his name. This time, I’ve sure heard it. 

“Griffin where ar- are you okay?!” 

I’m waiting for an answer, panting in front of what was -still a minute ago- a door. I’m torn between keeping waiting or shouting again. 

But he found me one more time. 

“I’m- I’m okay.” 

I know he must be, he’s not the one dying today. Although, his voice sounds weak, almost muffled, as if he had trouble breathing. I can’t help but worry. Even if he can't die, he could very well break a leg or two, twist an arm, or even paralyze himself for life. There’s no call that could predict that kind of things. And I can’t bear the thought of me being behind all this. 

"Theo?" 

"Yeah?"

A pause. Probably only for a few seconds, but it felt so much longer. 

"I’m, so sorry."

"What- what do you mean you’re sorry? Hang in there, I’ll find a way to get you out!"

Even if I end up dying doing so. 

**_11:49am_ **

After going around the whole building I had to realize that there were no other accessible exits. Since then the manager of the place, Katjaa, had joined me. Obviously the first thing she asked me was whether Griffin had received his call or not. She sincerely looked horrified but honestly, I couldn't tell if she was more worried about Griffin or her planetarium. 

"Look sweetie, here they are." 

When it became clear that I couldn't find him alone, I called 911. On second thought, I should have done it from the beginning, but this was probably me wanting to be a hero and save the day. Except we’re not in one of my stories. 

Of course, it's always the same question. " _Did he get his call?_ ". No. No he didn't, but you should go help him nonetheless. I'd rather not think about how many people didn't get medical help because they got their call. Maybe they could have been saved. Who knows? 

They finally went in. I'd like to follow them, but I'm not allowed to. Instead, I'm waiting by the ambulance, preparing my best apology for when Griffin comes back. A woman walks out of the building, followed by another woman, then by a man, followed by another man but there’s still no sign of Griffin. 

I watch them get in and out of the ambulance but this time with a stretcher. Not the open ones used to move patients, but those with a bag in it. 

I don't get it. 

"Um, excuse me, sir?" 

I don't understand. 

"Did you say that your friend didn't receive his call today?" 

Why are they bringing out a body bag? 

"Were you with him in the last 24 hours?" 

He doesn't need one. 

"Sir, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry I- I need to see him." 

I'm heading towards the entrance cleared by the paramedics, but I'm being stopped again. 

"Sir you cannot enter, it's not safe." 

"I don't fucking care if it's safe I need to see him!" 

That's when they came out. The stretcher-bearers. The bag that was previously empty is now closed. 

Griffin. 

"Sir, we have to ask you a few questions to verify the young man's identity, so we can check if he got his call." 

Is this my fault? I was supposed to be under this beam, but Griffin pushed me over at the last minute. Would he have taken my place? Is it how this works? I don't get it. 

"His name's Griffin." 

"And his family name?" 

I don't even know his family name. We've talked about everything and nothing, how can I not even know his family name? 

"I-I don't-" 

"Excuse me mister, are you related to the victim?" 

Victim? "I'm his-" What was I exactly? "friend." 

"Do you know his parents' number? So we can call them?" 

No, he’s not in good terms with them. I remember very well the face he made when we talked about it. He explained to me how everyone runs away once in their lifetime. That there's a point everyone has to run away, you just have to go back some day. But he felt like he ran away so much, he didn’t even know where he should go anymore. That was so unlike everything I had seen from him I didn’t even know what to say. So I told him that he’ll find the right place eventually. That he’ll understand once he’s there. He made me believe in what I said even though I had no idea what I was talking about. That’s how strong he is. 

"No, I don't know it." 

"Well, we got his phone back and it still seems to work, you'll probably find it in there. We’re lucky there’s no pin code." 

Perhaps I’ve read too much. That would explain why I believe in the inductive inferences, the fact that we tend to generalize single experiences to fit our ideas. Maybe there’s a way to counter the call? Maybe I don’t have to die? We know so little about Death-Cast, and what’s left unknown is always ten times scarier. 

I hugged Katjaa. I don’t know why I felt the need to do it, but I did. She asked if I wanted to eat something but I wasn’t hungry. She asked if I wanted a ride but I didn’t know where to. If I go home it’s the end of me. I’ll trap myself in my own thoughts and I don’t want to die like this. Griffin taught that to me, how to live. And I can’t disappoint him. 

So I wandered a little, always carefully looking several times on both sides of the road before crossing. Both my phone and his are in my hands as I sit on a bench in a park. The afternoon just begun yet I can already see people walking their dog, jogging or playing football with their children. If only I had lived earlier, I could have come here to write, surely I would have find interesting materials for my stories. But I don’t have that much time left. At least, I know how I should use it. 

**_1:04pm_ **

I'm going through Griffin's contact list looking for his parents' numbers. I find them registered under _Father_ and _Mother_ which makes pretty obvious the fact that they didn't share the best of relationships. I'm thinking about what should I say after pressing the call button. How do you tell parents that their son is gone? I really don't understand how you can work at Death-cast without going crazy. 

In my head I do the pros and cons between first calling his mother or father. I don't remember any conversations I could have had with my father, but I know that with my mother it always took on crazy proportions. What am I doing, I can't compare our situation I don't even know what his parents look like. Screw it, I’m calling the first number I see. _Mother_. 

I don't even hear a ring until an automated message comes on telling me that my call can't be delivered. I don't even have access to the voicemail. I try the father's number but the exact same thing happens. How much did they have to hate each other not to even tell their son that they had changed their number? Or maybe they blocked him? 

I grabbed my phone, just to be sure. I'm calling his mother back. I hear the ringing once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail. This time I'm leaving a message. I explain that I'm a friend of their son, that we spent the day together and that he had an accident. I don't talk about the Death-cast call that he might or might not have received. A part of me feels relieved that she didn’t pick up the phone, so I didn’t have to explain to them how I might be responsible for their son’s death, and the other one feels really shitty about what think the other part. I hang up and stare at my phone for a few minutes, knowing what my next move should be. 

I can feel the sun beating down on my forehead. I check my mom's WhatsApp profile. She's logged in. 

I press call. 

**_1:07pm_ **

I always told myself that I wouldn't call my mother until I had achieved something great. After I became a millionaire, or an established author, because otherwise she would have found something to complain about. That was my excuse for not talking to her. I mean, it's not like she ever felt the need to do it on her own but if she wasn’t going to be the adult, I should have been. I should have taken the role. I hate to think this, but she's still an important person in my life, and I owe it to myself to be the one to tell her that I'm dying. 

"Hello?"

Her voice sounds raspy, as if she smoked a bunch of cigarettes, when she most likely just woke up. 

"Hello, mom."

Silence. I hear footsteps followed by the sound of a door being opened then closed. I wonder what made her move to another room. Did she walk away from the previous one, out of shame because there were people in it that could hear our conversation? 

"Theo. What is it?"

I don't know what irritates me more, her annoyed tone or the fact that she’s immediately assuming I'm calling her because I want something. 

"If you're calling me because you need money, know that under no circumstances-" 

"I got my call." 

She doesn't say anything until an almost nonchalant "oh" crosses her lips. I chuckled. 

"You didn't expect that, did you?" 

"No, honey, I-" 

"Don't call me that way." 

She’s never given me a cute nickname in her whole life, she's definitely not starting now. 

"And, how are you handling it?"

I can’t understand her. I can’t read through her voice. She probably doesn’t really care and said it out of courtesy but I want to answer that question. Most importantly, I need to hear myself answering it. 

"Well, all day I kept reminding myself that I was going to die. I would just, either laugh it off, either act like I couldn't care less. I lied to myself all day because it felt easier. But the truth is.. The truth is that I'm so fucking scared and so fucking mad. So, so mad. But I don't have time to be sad." 

I’m thinking about Griffin. How unfair all of this, is. All the feelings I had push away to enjoy my last day are coming back altogether. And it is a lot to take in. I can hear my voice cracking, but I go on. 

"You know, I truly met someone today. He backed me up through what should have been the worst day of my life. I wanted him to live for me. I _needed_ him to live for me. But he died. He was also dying today. And now I don't know what to do."

Saying it at loud suddenly makes it so real. As if I wasn’t sure whether it really happened or not. I may have only met him today, but he felt more genuine than all those friendships I've ever write about. 

"I’m sorry."

"What for? Never supporting me like you should have? Or for making me feel unworthy of your love and attention? Or maybe 'cause I’m dying?"

"For letting you do as pleased. I should have made you go to College, whether you wanted to or not. You probably would've found a more stable job and wouldn’t have ended up like this."

I should hang up. I want to. But if Griffin was still here, I know for a fact that he wouldn’t have let me do it until I’ve said everything I wanted to. And there’s no way I’m coming back to haunt her because my ghost self couldn’t leave in peace. 

“I would have end up dying no matter what, only difference’s that I would have lived unhappily until then. I did what I wanted to, and I don’t regret it. It could have been nice to get some support from you, though.” 

"But everything I did was out of love-"

"That’s not what love is. When you love someone, you do your best to make them happy. You give without waiting to be given back. You let people live their dream, no matter the cost. Mom, you loved what I could have been. Not who I am."

She doesn’t say anything, but for once I feel like she listened to me. Truly, listened. 

"I’ll miss you, Theo."

I never felt more than in that moment the fullness of what was going to happen. 

"I know you will. Take care." I take a moment. "I love you."

And I stand by what I said. Love do works in a weird way. 

"I love you too."

**_1:07am_ **

I know I shouldn’t, but my curiosity’s killing me. I wanted to know more about Griffin, and I ended up digging into his phone. I didn't touch the text messages, just looked at some photos and videos. On one of them I see him singing at a birthday party. I didn't know he had such a nice voice, it makes me want to hear it a little more. Just a little more. I open the Voice Memos app and the last recording I see is entitled _F_ _or Theo only_ and is from this morning, at 8:04 am. Shit. 

"Hey, Theo. Sorry I- god. If you hear this, chances are I'm already dead. I wish that I died before you, so you wouldn't have to hear this, but apparently that's not what happened. I just- I feel like if I don't tell you this now, I won't be able to go to Heaven or something. So, here we are." 

I can almost hear his heart beating through the recording. He doesn’t sound too alarmed for someone who just got his call, but I can feel his nervousness, the same way I did when we first met. Like he was scared about being judged. 

"I think I'm the reason we're both dying." 

He did get his call. He just didn't tell me. 

"See, I've liked you for a while now, well, it’s more like I was interested by who you were from the start. I mean, you were always at the Café, always looking through the window like you were waiting for someone to notice you.” 

If I wasn’t so trapped in my own world I could have seen all of this. I could have really seen him. Not as a character whose life I’m not involved in, with a questionable ending, but as a person. As someone to meet. 

"And.. Since yesterday was my birthday I thought I’d work up the courage to invite you to the theater. We probably would have gone by the time, if Death-Cast didn't call. If we didn't stop at that pub. If we didn't miss our train. If I didn't invite you to a place that burned. So, Theo, I'm really, _really_ sorry."

Hearing the crack in his voice I burst into tears. The recording stopped there, but there’s got to be more of it. I rewound it over and over and over but that’s it. 

I wondered. What would have happened if I wasn't at the Café the moment I got my call? What would I have done? Would I have still gone outside, or would I stayed home all day, waiting for death to slowly get to me? 

Griff', he saved me. He saved me from the most pathetic death I could have got. And since I didn't do a lot while I was living, I hope that -at the very least- I'm doing a better job at dying. It doesn’t matter why it happens. What matters is how we deal with it. And I’ve never felt more alive than today. 

Thus, If I want to stay alive a little longer, there’s only one thing I know how to do. This morning I had wrote something for him. A poem that I actually like. If I have to let one last thing behind me, I want it to be words about him. 

It's so ironic. The only thing that scared me was to leave this Earth without having done something big, a work I could be so proud to say _I've made_ _it!_

Yet now all I want is for him to read it. 

But he's not here to read them anymore. 

**_Feels like we’re Living_ **

I have been sunkissed by him that morning. 

That day, I woke up with his sweet melody and the reflect of the fuzzy morning in his big brown eyes. 

He found me again after I lost myself in the _current_ I saw while looking at the dimples made by his smile. 

I could have taken all day to think about how grateful I was that I got to spend at least a short while in the company of that brilliant, miraculous life force 

But I was lacking time. 

So I just shut all my inner thoughts. 

Retracing the curves his ridiculously long lashes had, with my mind 

Feeling the wind slowly cuddling the skin of his neck, before going on mine 

Seeing the shiver that was being transcribed by the movement his shoulders made 

And finally I said 

_What a nice morning we're getting, today._

I get it now. _This_ is the ending I've always been craving for. It feels genuine. And I would never have found it if it wasn't for him. I quickly sent it to my editor, with a note saying that this was the last thing I'll ever write. I check the time, then search for the nearest bus stop that could take me to my publishing house. I'd like to discuss the last details of the collection, like how I’d like the cover to look like, before it's too late. It’s only two blocks away. I was on my way when suddenly I saw the bus coming in the distance. I started to run in order to catch it in time, but never made it. 

**Author's Note:**

> And here we are. This was actually made in december 2019 for my english class (I'm a French student) so I couldn't really write more than that or my teacher wouldn't have read it lmao  
> Anyway, I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it. If you have anything to say, my ears are all open !  
> Thank you, and see you soon on Pluto !


End file.
